


Stitches

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: Whumptober 2019 [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Gen, Gore, Hurt Jack Kline, Jack Kline Whump, POV Jack Kline, Stitches, Unconsciousness, Vasovagal Response, Vomiting, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Jack gets hurt during a fight, and being without his powers, Castiel has to stitch him back up.





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 11 of Whumptober 2019.  
Prompt: stitches.
> 
> The thing I have Castiel and Jack fight is a monster that showed up in an episode of _Teen Wolf_. I can't remember what it was, but it scared the shit out of me, so here you go.

Jack had been excited to go on a hunt with Castiel, but upon getting there they’d realized a problem: Castiel was cut off from his Grace. They weren’t sure what was causing it, but the effect seemed to spread throughout a few counties. His father assured him it wouldn’t be a problem, that he’d dealt with this before, and it would be alright. Instead of feeling a sense of closeness with his father in this situation, it made Jack anxious. What could they be hunting that didn’t want angels around, and what if something terrible happened because Castiel was without his powers?

Then, something terrible did happen.

They were in a tunnel system underneath an old psych ward when the thing they were hunting caught up to them. Jack wasn’t sure what it was. It was dark, and it moved too fast, but he was aware of the hissing and snarling, and that there were foot-long spikes coming out of its arms, and that its claws were as sharp as a blade.

The spikes hadn’t gotten Jack, but it’d clawed his face, leaving him on one knee, holding a hand to his bleeding wounds as he cried out.

Castiel was fighting the thing, telling Jack to hold on, that he’d be okay, that he’d be there to take care of him soon.

The fight grew loud in his ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Adrenaline hadn’t had time to flood his system, and now shock was taking over. It sounded like Castiel was losing.

Jack took his trembling hand from his face, almost threw up at all the dark red coating his skin, at the feel of it dripping from him. Fire consumed his cheek and his lips.

Castiel was on the ground, the thing about to stab him through with the spike coming out of its arm, and he tackled it, crying out as his face battered against its body. They fell to the stone floor, and while Jack struggled with it, trying to keep it away from Cas, his father managed to get to his feet and stab it through the back.

The body collapsed on him, sending sharp tingles of fear through Jack, and he backed away from it as quickly as he could, breathing heavily. Tears were in his eyes.

“C-Cas,” he got out. Cas, ‘el’ ‘e.” He was trying to say _help me_, but his bloodied, agonized lips wouldn’t properly form the words.

There was panic in his father’s eyes when he looked at him, but then it was pushed aside, hidden. Castiel knelt by him, holding him gently. He pressed his fingers to Jack’s forehead, closing his eyes, and then his face fell when nothing happened.

“Alright, it’s alright,” he said, partially to himself it seemed. “I’ve seen Sam and Dean come back from worse. You’re going to be fine.”

“‘Urts!”

“I know. I know. I’ll call Sam and Dean, okay? I’ll get you back to the motel, and they’ll walk me through fixing you up.”

Jack groaned at the thought of moving, at having to go anywhere while his face throbbed so horrifically that it was hard to see through the pain.

Castiel was untucking his dress shirt now, ripping off a part of it, and folding it over before pressing it against Jack’s face, covering his mouth, and part of his right cheek. The fabric tickled against his nose. He cried out at the pressure, soreness striking through him like a hammer. The bleeding slowed.

“You have to hold this as I get you back, okay?”

Jack didn’t nod, figured it would hurt too much, and he was incapable of saying anything.

“On your feet now,” he gently told him, lifting Jack up under the armpits and helping him rise. He swayed, light-headed and fell against his father.

Castiel wrapped an arm around him, about his waist, holding him up, and he walked him through the tunnels. Jack didn’t remember much about the walk back to the motel, just knew that he hurt, and he was crying. It was the middle of the night, so luckily no one happened upon them.

He collapsed into a chair as soon as they got back, and Castiel had his phone out, putting it on speaker.

“Hey, what’s up?” Sam greeted once he’d picked up.

“Get Dean. Jack’s hurt, and… and I don’t know how to help him.”

“I’m right here, Cas,” Dean said. “Why can’t you just use your angel mojo?”

“There’s no time to explain. How do I stitch up someone’s face?”

Jack didn’t like the sound of that. He’d be experiencing more pain before this was through, it seemed. He wanted to beg Cas to get them out of the area where he couldn’t use his powers and then heal him, but he felt faint from blood loss and sitting up straight had him seeing black spots in his vision. They didn’t have time to drive for miles and miles.

The pain pulsed through him, so all-consuming that he just moaned and whimpered, and tears kept falling from his eyes. His agony drowned out the conversation that his dads were having, and all the while he pictured what he might look like. How badly had his face torn open? Was part of his lip gone? Did he look like himself? Would it be possible to see his teeth and gums even if he had his mouth closed?

And he pictured those injuries, the horror of it, and imagined more suffering, a needle going into his skin over and over to try and sew him up.

Castiel was off the phone now, and kneeling down by him. He must’ve left the room because he now had a first aid kit beside him. Jack wondered where he’d gotten it, but maybe Dean had packed it for them just in case.

With a hand on his knee, his father told him, “Alright, Jack, I’m going to have to stitch up your lip. Sam says that you’ll need two rows of stitches for it. It’s going to hurt, but you’ll stop bleeding. I think your cheek needs some stitches too, but I’m right here. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

Jack wanted to recoil from him, scared about what his father was going to do, but he was too weak, and blood was seeping from the bit of torn shirt into his hand and down his wrist. It’d gone down his neck too, getting into the collar of his shirt.

Castiel helped him over to the bed, lying him down on it, and frightened, Jack clutched at his coat.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was happening. There were sounds, movement, Castiel preparing things, and then he was patting him reassuringly on the chest.

“I’m going to start now. Just hold still, and I can be quick about it.”

“Cas! Cas!” Jack cried out, and he wanted to add a million “no”s to follow up with it, but he couldn’t.

“Shh, shh,” his father soothed. “Okay, I’m beginning now.”

There were fingers against his lip, making the pain sear down into his chin, and then he felt the needle. Jack screamed through gritted teeth, tears trailing down the sides of hs face into his hair. There was tugging that made his head swirl and his stomach fill with uncomfortable heat, and then he felt the needle again.

Jack wanted to tell him he couldn’t do it, that he couldn’t handle it. Maybe in his right mind he’d feel ashamed for such a thing, but _it hurt!_

He tried to fight Cas, clawing at his hands, but hs father put his hands to his chest and leaned over him, pinning them down.

“‘Op!” he cried. “S’op!”

“I’m so sorry, Jack,” Castiel told him, but still he continued his work.

The first row of stitches was done, but Jack could still feel air coming in and hitting his bottom teeth when he breathed. It wasn’t over.

He began to sweat, feeling hot and cold all at once, and he struggled against Cas, sure he was going to throw up.

“Mm! Mm! Cas!”

Castiel seemed to realize that something else was going on now besides the pain, and he let Jack’s arms go. Jack clutched at the bed, trying to get on his side. There wasn’t a bucket, but he’d rather not choke on his puke, or throw up on himself.

Jack leaned with his head over the bed, shuddering, gripping the edge of it. Sweat rolled down his face. His head pounded, grew fuzzy, and saliva was coming up in his mouth, dripping out with the blood.

“Jack, what’s wrong?” Castiel asked, panicked. “Tell me what’s wrong. Sam and Dean didn’t say anything about this happening.”

“Sick,” he groaned out. “‘Eel sick!”

Cas left him, which made Jack cry more, terrified to feel this without his father by his side, and then he was back with a bucket, holding it under his head. The blood dripped into it, and soon he felt a strange tension in his abdomen, and it was hard to breathe. His body heaved, a retching noise leaving him, but his stomach didn’t empty.

“Okay, okay, Jack. I’m right here.” Castiel was rubbing a hand through his hair, and rubbing his back as Jack dry-heaved. His dizziness grew, and soon he couldn’t hear Cas at all, couldn’t even see the bucket beneath his head. Everything was pounding and he couldn’t breathe.

Seconds, or perhaps minutes, later Jack found himself on his back, blinking up into Castiel’s eyes.

“‘At ‘a’end?” he asked, trying to get out, what happened?

“You fainted,” Castiel explained. “Just stay with me. Look at me. I still have to finish.”

Jack started sobbing, and Castiel held the back of his head, telling him how strong and brave he was.

He kept his gaze on his father’s face as he stitched him up, something that had Jack breathing heavily, and his vision clouding over. It was torture, and he couldn’t stop letting out loud moans and cries. Thankfully, Castiel finished, and he set to work on his cheek, which didn’t hurt as much as it had with his lip. And now he’d developed a system with himself. Every time his vision started going black he’d look into Castiel’s blue eyes, and they’d anchor his mind in place, his consciousness, even if it felt like his body was drifting away.

By the time Castiel was done, he too was bloodied, and he rested his head on the bed beside Jack, breaths coming in relieved pants. Jack just stared up at the ceiling, glad to have his father by his side.

“You did great, Jack. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ‘kay.”

Castiel lifted up his head, and Jack could see he was crying. “No. No, it’s not okay. I’m your father, and you got hurt under my watch. I took you out too soon. You should’ve had more training, I should’ve let you stay at the motel, I… _I should’ve had my powers_. Your mother trusted me with you, and now... “ Castiel sniffled and reached out a hand to caress the uninjured side of his face. Jack leaned into it, comforted by his warm touch. “I let you down.”

Jack wanted to argue, but there would be no arguing with Castiel when he was so insistent, especially not when Jack struggled with getting words out. Instead, he had Castiel help him up and bring him to the bathroom so he could look in the mirror. His father had tried talking him out of it, saying he didn’t want him to see, but he wouldn’t back down. He wanted to see what Cas was seeing, wanted to see if he still looked like himself.

So now Jack stood before the mirror, gazing at all the red painting his skin, and at the ugliness of thread holding his flesh together. There were two sets of stitches in his lip, one deeper to close it up from the bottom, and one higher up. His tongue came out to lick it without much thought, and he whimpered from the pain, bracing himself with hands against the sink. The stitches on his cheek were in three haphazard rows, and he saw that the injury the circled down to his lip. He was amazed the monster hadn’t gotten his upper lip.

But as he looked and looked, he was trying to see something, trying to see the brave young man Castiel told him he was.

Jack didn’t see it.

A mangled face looked back at him.


End file.
